


Spirk Valentine's Day Extravaganza

by T-hai-la (Cammerel)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Chapter 1 Tags:, Chapter 2 Tags:, Chapter 3 tags:, Chapter 4 Tags:, Dancing, F/M, Female James T. Kirk, First Meetings, Flirting, Implied/Referenced Prostitution, Lapdance, Meet-Cute, Nudity, Pole Dancing, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Vulcan Biology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-18 11:57:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13681212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cammerel/pseuds/T-hai-la
Summary: A series of one-shots set in my own personal Fem!Kirk-Spirk-AOS AU. These will be in order and somewhat sporadic.It was not Spock’s idea to go to the nightclub. In fact, he had tried to find the best excuse to stay in for the night, but his mother was insistent. Whether he had friends to converse with or not, she had managed to persuade him to attempt to… socialize.





	1. SFW - First Time Meeting - The Meet Cute

**Author's Note:**

> **Chapter 1 Tags:** First Meetings, Meet-Cute

It was not Spock’s idea to go to the nightclub. In fact, he had tried to find the best excuse to stay in for the night, but his mother was insistent. Whether he had friends to converse with or not, she had managed to persuade him to attempt to… socialize.

Being the only Vulcan in all of Starfleet Academy, he found himself at a disadvantage on only that one front - speaking to others, making friends or even acquaintances.

It did not bother him (Vulcans do not feel troubled or bothered or concerned in any way), but it **did** trouble his mother. It made her do illogical things, such as suggesting that he come back home, that he return to Vulcan and accept his place at the VSA - which he did not want and would forever refuse to do.

But his attempts to please his mother in some way did often result in nights like this. Sitting in a nightclub, surrounded by scantily-clad attendants, listening to loud Terran music, attempting to block out the conversations of the Terrans around him while going through messages he had received throughout the day on his PADD.

He was not socializing. But he could tell his mother that he had tried, at least.

Spock could not help it if the Terran cadets did not find conversation with him as stimulating as they did with others of their own kind.

“Back off already, Gary,” he hears a girl at the bar say and does not look up from his PADD, “I already said forget it.”

“Oh come on, baby, it was just the one time.”

“Fuck off.”

“Don’t be like that.”

Spock only barely hears what happens next as he continues to try and block out the conversation he feels he is intruding upon.

There is some kind of altercation before the girl falls back into his table, taking it down with her.

Spock sits in his seat, eyes wide, PADD in hand as he looks down at her, his tea now spilt over her red cadet uniform.

“Oh geez, what the hell,” she tries to wipe herself off, flicking pieces of glass from her short blonde hair.

“Sorry Jim, god, are you okay?”

Spock turns as the young man tries to help the girl up and she shoves him away, his flailing arms barely missing Spock’s face in the struggle.

“Fuck off, Gary,” she glares at him, her legs spread wide and Spock looks elsewhere to offer her some privacy.

“It was your own damn fault.”

“Get /lost/, loser.”

When the man tries to help her up again Spock finally reaches out to stop him and stands from his own seat, stepping between the two of them and staring down at him.

“This young woman has denied your advances numerous times,” he says calmly, “I suggest you leave the premises and return to your dorm room for the remainder of the night before I contact security to escort you out.”

“Piss off, pointy.”

Despite arguing, the man does turn and leave the nightclub, cursing and fuming with his hands balled into fists.

Spock watches until he is out of sight, then looks down to the girl still on the ground as she stares up at him in a way he has not seen another look at him.

“Uh, thanks,” she says, “Hand?”

“I am Vulcan,” Spock apologizes.

“Oh, shit, right,” she blushes, legs still spread wide, “Arm, then?”

Spock considers the request for only 2.2 seconds before he holds out his arm at an angle, assisting her in getting back up onto her feet.

She dusts off her uniform, turning her backside to him, “Anything on me?”

Spock blinks in confusion at the question, “You are wearing a standard red cadet uniform, year 2, with the optional choice of a skirt - which you seem to have modified, as well as standard issue black cadet-”

“Oh my god, not literally,” the girl complains, “Do I have anything on my /ass/? Did I fall in anything?”

“You fell into the table.”

“As I’m aware-ugh, nevermind.”

“I apologize for not being able to answer your question adequately. I do not understand what you are asking of me.”

The girl shrugs, turning to look at him once more, “No biggie, you’re cute, so that makes up for it,” she then leans up on the toes of her boots and kisses his cheek, “Thanks.”

And then she leaves the club.

Spock stands still for a long time, even as one of the attendants comes over to clean up the mess. His cheek feels warm where her lips had been, an illogical sensation considering that she would have not left residual heat.


	2. SFW - The Valentine’s Day Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next time he sees her is at his fourth attempt to partake in socializing. Unfortunately, he misunderstood the occasion - a Terran ‘holiday’ - as being an event for all. He almost immediately realizes his error when he walks into the building. 97.6% of the population in the room are paired couples. Most of the ones that aren’t (2.2%), he also realizes, have partners, but have chosen to converse with others instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter 2 Tags:** Implied/Referenced Prostitution, Dancing

Spock does not see the girl (he believes her name is ‘Jim’ - an unusual name for a female, because in his experience with Terran culture, ‘Jim’ is a male name) for some time after the altercation in the night club. He does not seek her out, but there are times when he will walk down the halls of the academy and hear her voice, see her short blonde hair, or catch the faintest glimpse of her blue eyes.

In fact, the next time he sees her is at his fourth attempt to partake in socializing. Unfortunately, he misunderstood the occasion - a Terran ‘holiday’ - as being an event for all. He almost immediately realizes his error when he walks into the building. 97.6% of the population in the room are paired couples. Most of the ones that aren’t (2.2%), he also realizes, have partners, but have chosen to converse with others instead.

It seems he is a member of the minority, the remaining .2% of the room’s population, that have come alone - mistakenly or otherwise.

He endeavours to remain optimistic, although he keeps near the exit and decides to use the remainder of the night to observe Terran culture. If he cannot socialize, perhaps he can begin to understand why and how Terran do, or at least pick up some pointers.

As he watches, not remaining on a couple for too long, he manages to catch that familiar glimpse of blonde hair. It is even shorter now than it was when he first met her. If Spock remembers correctly, he has heard the style referred to as a ‘pixie cut’, although he does not understand the reference. Nevertheless, it is now shorter than his own hair, and managed to make the color of her eyes more prominent than ever before.

The group of dancing couples clears more so that he can better see her, see the short pink dress she wears, the way her tanned skin and curves make her all the more appealing because of it. Spock has never thought of anyone as ‘beautiful’ before, but he cannot fathom applying a word that would mean any less, to try and convey how she looks.

Arresting, perhaps. Divine.

He is rendered speechless, completely enamored for so long that it takes him minutes to realize that she is arguing with her partner.

It is the second time he has seen her with the young man - Gary, he remembers - and it is also the second time that he has managed to upset her. Spock can see it in her eyes, the warm fury, the thick brows narrowed, the scowl on her face as she tries to push him away.

But he kisses her lips and her neck, he tries to keep her close, his hands move down from her waist.

Spock feels an unusual sensation building inside of him. He is not sure what it is.

And then the girl, Jim, slaps him and pushes him away again. But he is as persistent as ever. Spock will perhaps never understand Terran, how they try to coerce someone into being with them when it is clear their presence is unwanted. He almost moves from the wall by the door. It is not his place, however. He does not even know her last name.

They reach close enough to him that Spock can hear them, to try and gauge whether or not he should intervene. He is ashamed to admit - even to himself - that he focuses his hearing so that he /can/ make out their conversation this time.

“I am /not/ like that.”

“Not with me, you aren’t. I don’t get it,” Gary tries to grab her hand, “A girl like you shouldn’t be this difficult. It’s not like I’m asking you to do something you haven’t already.”

“It’s not the same thing-”

“Sure it is.”

And then Gary leans in to whisper in her ear, words Spock barely hears, “I’ll pay you, if that makes you feel better.”

Jim looks affronted.

“Let go of me.”

This, Spock realizes, is when he should step in.

Jim struggles to get away, to get her arm free. And when Gary doesn’t budge, her arm pulls back and Spock can feel it himself when her fist connects with Gary’s face.

The sound alone is enough to catch the attention of the crowd, but none of them move as Jim turns and leaves the building, shoving open the front door and leaving her date sprawled on the floor. Spock is not surprised when others do not immediately come to his aid. Even the one that does only seems to do so because Spock can see the icon on his shirt - the singular implication of his medical degree.

Spock leaves the establishment as well then. He is not sure why he bothered himself to stay as long as he did, but after the exchange between the young woman and her date, he does not want to stay.

He does not expect, however, to walk outside the building and see her still standing there. He notes the unmistakable tremors of her shoulders, the rain falling drowning out the sound of her crying.

The door closes loudly behind him and she straightens up, stopping when she sees him.

“Oh, hey,” she says and turns away from him, trying to wipe her face so that he will not see her tears.

Spock is not good at comfort, it is an alien thing to him, something he has attempted in the past with his mother and always failed at.

“Any chance you /didn’t/ see all of that?”

“If you are referring to your violent altercation at the Valentine’s Dance, I cannot lie - I did see.”

“Gonna tattle?”

“I see no reason to do so at this time,” Spock assures her, “I was witness to the exchange between the two of you, where he persisted with an unwanted advance and would not release you from his hold.”

Jim laughs, the sound sharp and ragged, “That’s one way of saying it.”

Spock joins her side but does not look down to her, “Is there… any way that I can assist you?”

“I don’t think so, Spock,” she sighs and Spock tenses, unsure how it is that she came to know his name. Though he is the only Vulcan in the academy, he cannot imagine it was an easy thing to accomplish, considering how little he exchanged with others.

He inclines his head, “Perhaps I can help you back to your dorm room?” he suggests, “I am unsure if your date was the one that brought you-”

“He was,” Jim educates him, turning to rest her back against the pillar and looking at him, her cheeks splotched red from crying, “Yeah, that… that would be nice.”

Spock stares for 3.7 seconds longer than he should, observing how her eyes are more blue than ever before, how her freckles seem to appear clearer when she is flushed, how her lips curve-

He nods, motioning to their right, “My hovercraft is in the back garage, if you would follow me.”

Spock sees a smile graze her face, feels his heart rate increase and pushes down the unusual flutter in his stomach as he guides her down the long hall, to the garage, and through the large enclosure to where his own hovercraft has been parked.

He opens the passenger’s side door for her and she smiles even wider now, but stops to look up at him.

“Sorry if I ruined your night,” she says sheepishly, “I can stay here if you wanna go tell your date that you’re leaving to drop me off.”

Spock blinks in confusion and then motions for her to climb in, “I had no prior engagement.”

She looks surprised, then nudges him, “You’re kidding, right? Go on, I don’t mind waiting.”

“Vulcans do not lie,” Spock insists, growing more confused at her insistence.

“/You/ didn’t have a date?”

“I did not.”

Jim nods then, finally conceding and climbing into her seat, smoothing her dress and pulling it in close when Spock carefully closes the door.

The drive to her dorm room is short and he walks her down the second floor hall, noting how empty it is - all of the cadets still likely at the Valentine’s Day Dance.

He allows himself to look at her once more, her golden skin, her blonde hair, her blue eyes, the dress with its top half made of fabric cut into the shape of flowers, the skin underneath just barely visible through the petals.

“Enjoying looking at my jiggly bits?” Jim asks.

“Pardon?”

“I don’t mind,” she tells him, “Just keep your hands off the merchandise.”

“I… do not understand.”

Jim does not explain herself, just smiles at him and motions to the door ahead, “This is me.”

Spock opens his mouth to bid her good night when she lifts her brows and says the last thing he would have expected.

“Wanna dance?”

“... Dance?” Spock asks in confusion.

Jim looks up and down the hall, then shrugs, “I kinda wanted to dance tonight, you went and didn’t even have a date. Kinda like we both been jipped.”

“You want to dance in the dorm hallway?”

“No one’s around, why not?” Jim motions to herself, “I mean, I got all pretty.”

Spock does not say that she has always been stunning to him, he does not tell her how the color of the dress makes her skin appear to glow, how despite being upset less than fifteen minutes prior she still looks breathtaking, how her smile makes him question whether or not he will be able to look away when in its presence. He does not say any of those things.

He does, however, agree to dance with her in an open dorm hallway where anyone could see them.

“If that is your wish, I will endeavor to assist you in your quest to not feel as though you have been ‘jipped’.”

Jim smiles that smile again and Spock offers his hand to her. She takes it, moving in quickly to press their bodies together.

Having observed the couples at the dance prior, Spock takes everything into consideration to build a standard basis for stance and posture, placing his hand directly center between the line of her collarbone and bottom hem of the floral patterned top of her dress. His other hand wrapping around to rest on her back as her hands move up.

He had anticipated her resting her palms on his chest, but instead they wrap around his neck, one of them sprawling through the back of his hair as she stares up at him.

Spock feels her dull nails scratching along his scalp, the surface thoughts coming through unfiltered and with no sign of attempted suppression. Terrans knew, especially cadets in the academy, that Vulcans were touch telepaths. But her surface thoughts were not unpleasant.

He could feel the still burning embers of her altercation with the cadet named Gary, the silent fury. He could also feel a soft emotion humming along her skin, contentment, an emotion aimed at himself.

Spock could not think of a time his own presence caused happiness in someone that was not his mother. It was a pleasant sensation, after his years alone in the academy, to feel needed by another being - even if it was just for the present moment.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Penny?” Spock asks, brows narrowing, “Why are you referring to ancient Terran currency?”

“It’s a saying,” she explains, smiling and he can feel that contentment build in her touch, “You’re quiet.”

Spock tilts his head as he finally understands, “Vulcans do not partake in small-talk.”

“Fair enough,” Jim’s fingers continue to scratch through his hair as they move together seamlessly, stepping back when he steps forward. It is almost as though they have done this dance a thousand times over, “Something so simple, and he can’t even do that right.”

“You are speaking of your date tonight, the cadet named Gary?”

“Gary Mitchell, yeah,” Jim confirms, “I just wanted /one night/, one simple night to just enjoy ourselves. And he can’t even give me that.”

Spock realizes when she takes control of their movements, leading him and he submits effortlessly, “If he displeases you, why do you persist in engaging in a romantic relationship with him?”

“Because I’m a moron,” Jim says and Spock does not understand why someone would insult themselves, but then she sighs in frustration and slows their steps, “I don’t know. He drives me crazy. Bones doesn’t get it either.”

“Bones?”

“A friend of mine.”

“I see.”

Jim stares up at Spock, her gaze warm and welcoming, blue eyes that seem larger than they should be, “I dunno why I do it, Spock. A girl loves a challenge, I guess.”

“Perhaps you should reconsider whether or not the challenge of Gary Mitchell is stimulating or devastating. You may find such a being to be unworthy of your efforts to find companionship.”

He is not sure why she smiles at his suggestion, but it pleases him to know that he has been the cause of her happiness, however temporary it may be.

She stops dancing with him, her hand still in his hair, and she moves the other to tug the collar of his robes down so that she may kiss his cheek again, this time it is closer to his lips than the first had been by 5.6 centimeters, “Thanks for humoring me, Spock.”

“You… are most welcome, Jim.”

Jim pulls away, walking to her dorm room door and watching him for a moment, “I didn’t say before, but you look really dashing in your robes,” she winks at him, “Keep it up and a girl might wanna help you out of them one night.”

Spock starts to open his mouth to ask what she means, but she’s already closed the door behind herself and once again left Spock alone and speechless.

He does not understand.

If she thought he looked pleasing, why would she want to help him remove them?


	3. NSFW - Pole Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock is unsure if his plans to go to the establishment called ‘Sticky Fingers’ were misguided or incorrect altogether. If this is the place the cadet was suggesting, then Spock understands why he would not want to tell him about it.
> 
> He is immediately grateful for his own foresight in dressing casual for the occasion instead of appearing at such a venue in his cadet uniform.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter Tags:** Nudity, Pole Dancing, Lapdances, Strippers  & Strip Clubs.

Her last name is Kirk.

Spock is still unsure why a female Terran would be named ‘Jim’, but that is now besides the point as he finds that he does not care one way or the other. As unusual as it is, Spock has grown fond of her unique quirks.

He is aware that he is steadily becoming somewhat infatuated with the other cadet, he does not even understand why it is happening, but he keeps himself at a distance for both their safety and finds himself meditating on it almost daily to reign himself in.

The times that they do find their eyes meeting, their paths crossing, their shoulders touching, are purely coincidental on his part. He ensures that he does not go seeking her out, but with them both being in the academy, it is not uncommon that they would see one another.

Every time, Jim smiles at him with that same warm smile, the one that makes his heart race, the one that he has apparently earned after the night he danced with her in her dorm hall.

It was also the first night that he went to his own dorm and could not get the vision of her out of his mind.

He could still feel her hand in his hair, her body against him, her breath in his face when she leaned up to kiss his cheek. It was unusual, persistent, and he found himself meditating through the entirety of that night and still being unable to banish his thoughts in the morning.

Spock does not think they are at the point where he can consider her a friend, but perhaps she is an acquaintance. She would certainly be his first.

He sits silently at the back of the class, observing the professor at the front of the room, his hands rested in his lap as he pointedly ignores the conversation taking place at the table adjacent to his own.

“We’re dragging him to ‘Sticky Fingers’ after classes, right?” he overhears one cadet ask another.

Immediately, Spock attempts to better drown out the conversation with what the professor is saying. He does not know what ‘Sticky Fingers’ is, but it is not uncommon for Terran cadets to use special code names in place of certain things.

He does not think of it again until the class ends and that same cadet comes over to some of the members of his own table.

“Sticky Fingers?” he asks, “After classes?”

A couple of the girls blush and nod.

“Is this for Scotty?” another asks and the first cadet confirms that she is correct, “Alright, I’ll go.”

Spock packs his PADD into his bag and stands up as the guy continues to go around asking about ‘Sticky Fingers’.

He narrows his eyes, his curiosity finally piqued and he moves to the cadet to ask him what it is, but the cadet glances back and forth.

“Yeah, not gonna tell you that,” he says lowly, “Your kind like to snitch on people.”

Spock withholds commentary as the cadet leaves the classroom. It is not the first time he has been insulted in such a way, though he has never done such a thing to warrant the reaction. But with Terran being under the assumption that Vulcans cannot lie, they often assume that Spock would immediately go to a higher authority and ‘tattle’.

He is not adverse to it, but only where the given situation would require it - illegal acts, drug use, minors drinking alcohol, etc. But Spock has been so far unaccepted in social settings that such a case has never had the chance to arise.

When he steps outside of the class, he pulls his PADD from his bag and conducts a quick search for ‘Sticky Fingers’. But when the results are… unsettling in ways he had not anticipated, he changes to the GPS settings and finds a local establishment called ‘Sticky Fingers’.

This, Spock assumes, is the location that the cadet was speaking of. He does not have time to explore the location tonight, but he will investigate it tomorrow when he has more time to spare.

For now, he packs his PADD back up and continues on to his next class.

* * *

Spock is unsure if his plans to go to the establishment called ‘Sticky Fingers’ were misguided or incorrect altogether. If this is the place the cadet was suggesting, then Spock understands why he would not want to tell him about it.

He is immediately grateful for his own foresight in dressing casual for the occasion instead of appearing at such a venue in his cadet uniform.

Spock struggles not to look so unsettled when he steps inside and his attention is immediately drawn to the stages, the employees (some clothed and others naked) dancing sensually to the music provided by the establishment.

He blinks, stepping aside for others to pass and that is when he realizes that he is not the only Vulcan there. He is not sure if he is ashamed or intrigued when he sees not only a Vulcan dancer up on one of the many poles, but customers as well - most with their attention drawn to Terran dancers.

The establishment’s namesake manifests within the first 30 seconds of being under its low-lit roof. Spock sees some of the waiters - both male and female - get groped by customers in ways that make Spock nervous. Some hands curve underneath, between their legs. Spock is even witness to one woman doing this to a waitress and tugging her close with fingers curled inside her before sharing a kiss.

His cheeks heat and he swallows, looking away from the exchange.

He looks back up to the dancers, observing each one - the Vulcan with long straight black hair, a few Orion women, one male, a Terran woman with red hair, another with purple, one on the far wall with long pink and blonde hair curling and flowing down her back and with her movements.

Spock sees her reach back to remove her top - a thin strap of fabric barely covering her full breasts. They are still hidden by her long hair, teased as she sways with the music.

She is not the thickest or most toned woman dancing on a pole, but her build is certainly pleasing. The woman has the curves of a being ideal for birthing children, hips wide, thighs thicker than twice the width of her arms as she leans low to remove her panties.

Spock steps through the crowds of people, watching as she flicks one side of her hair to expose a perfectly pink nipple. The curves of her body lure him in like a moth to a flame, familiar in a way that should be unsettling to him. But seeing as he has never been with a Terran woman, they would… not…

Nearly losing his footing, Spock realizes who she is when those blue eyes meet his and though she looks surprised at first, she continues dancing before him. Only now, it would seem that she has eyes for him and him alone.

If Spock could sweat, he imagines he would be doing so at this moment.

He swallows the lump in his throat, his heart racing when she lifts her hand and curls a finger to draw him in, then motions to an open seat just beneath where her legs part.

Spock is unsure what he is doing, he should not be at this sort of establishment, but he is unable to deny her.

“Ladies and gentlemen, looks like Goldilocks finally picked her first victim of the night,” a voice says and Jim moves from the pole to take the steps down to the main floor as the music changes, “If you’ll turn your attention to the far right… shows about to begin.”

Spock then realizes that the woman is talking about Jim and himself.

The moment her foot touches the bottom of the steps, the music swells suddenly, from a soft guitar to something more. She walks to him, hips swaying, one arm reaching out to trace up his arm as she steps around his chair and then stops in front of him, her back to him now as her body moves to the music.

She reaches up, pulling her hair over her shoulders to show more of the golden skin of her back, her shoulder blades, the long line of her spine leading down to twin dimples above the curve of her gluteal muscles.

His back straightens as words join the sensual sounds around them and she starts to step backwards, Spock’s gaze dropping to her backside as she spreads his legs wide apart and settles against him. Her body shifts against his, hips rolling as her hands cover his, rubbing them in a way that causes Spock’s skin to flush.

She turns to him, moving as she drops down, guiding his legs together once more before climbing up and wrapping her legs around his waist. Jim grabs the back of his hair as she had the night they had danced together and pulls his head back to look into his eyes, grinding against him obscenely.

“Didn’t take you for /that/ kinda Vulcan,” she says in his ear before arching her back and leaning in to rest his throat between her breasts, hips rolling, her heat just barely pressed to the front of his shirt, “You’re full of surprises.”

Spock nearly loses his breath as she rocks against the exact location of his sheathed penis, stimulating the sensitive nerves even through his shirt.

“I assure you, Ms. Kirk,” Spock responds as he stares up at her, as her thumbs brush the tips of his ear, “If you are referring to my surrounding peers, I am not ‘that kind of Vulcan’.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she pulls back, retreating from his lap as she dances before him, his gaze dropping down her shapely body, back up to the soft pink nipples that are almost of the same color as the dress she wore that night. She takes his hand, drawing his index finger into her mouth and dragging her tongue over it.

When she pulls his hand from her mouth, his own finally drops open and she smiles at him, guiding his hand down her figure. She rests his palm just above her genitals, running her hands up his jacketed arm.

Jim sinks to her knees before him, still undulating, her own hands running over her body, over her breasts, down her stomach and between her legs. She drops slowly onto her back, legs up and spreading to expose her genitals to him, her labia slick with arousal as she rocks her hips up from the floor.

This is the moment when Spock finally feels his own control start to wane, his mouth as dry as the surface of Vulcan, his hands tingling, tempted to reach out to her.

She rests her calves on his thighs and thrusts upwards in a way that would be synonymous with copulation but it isn't until she rolls her hips to settle herself back in his lap, back bending, her body rising, that others around him start to groan and whimper. What can he do but empathize with them?

Immediately following, his hands drop to her hips, trembling now and she leans back in to whisper in his ear.

“How’s that control doin’?” she asks, breath heavy in his face.

“It is adequate.”

Jim smiles at him, running her hands down his chest, then back up as she slows her movements.

She rises from his seat and walks around him, her hand touching his shoulder and then down his arm before she leaves him at his seat, taking the steps back up to the pole as the music recedes, changing back to what it had been before she started.

Spock watches her leave, going backstage and he stands to exit the establishment.

Once he is outside, he closes his eyes and lets out a long breath, his heart still racing in his side. And to think that he was having problems forgetting how she looked in the pink dress… now…

He has never been so conflicted, not as a man nor as an individual.


	4. N/SFW - First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your line of work. Is this what the cadet named Gary Mitchell was hinting to the night he made-... on the night of the Valentine’s Day dance.”
> 
> “Yeah, that’s what he was talking about,” Jim confirms, “He doesn’t believe me when I say that it’s just a show.”
> 
> Spock glances at her, “He is under the assumption that you provide your body as a service not only in the motions you expressed to me, but in form of physical relief as well?”
> 
> “That’s right.”
> 
> “And you do not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter Tags:** Implied/Referenced Prostitution, Flirting, Vulcan Biology.
> 
>  
> 
> This was meant to be SFW, but it got a lil NSFW-y

“You gonna lecture me?”

Spock looks up from his desk, setting one of his PADDs on top of another as his back stiffens, “I… lecture you?”

“You don’t call, you don’t write,” Jim says in a teasing tone as she walks over to him, “You know, a girl shows you a good time and you go all stonewall.”

“I did not ‘go all stonewall’ out of disrespect,” Spock inclines his head as he feels the heat return to his cheeks, “I… will admit that I was unsure how to proceed. I thought it best to wait and see what you would do first.”

Jim makes a face that conveys skepticism, “So… you gonna lecture me?”

“Why would I lecture you?”

“A guy sees a girl up there dancing like that, normally they’re not okay with that.”

“You are providing a service,” Spock takes his seat at his desk once more, watching as Jim sits against the side of it, “I assure you I have no intention of ‘lecturing you’.”

Jim stares at him in a long silence, not appearing too keen on breaking it.

“I do… have a few questions, perhaps some concerns.”

“Shoot.”

Spock’s eyes widen, “Pardon?”

“It’s an expression,” Jim waves her hand, “Means: ‘Ask away’, or ‘go ahead’.”

“I see,” Spock files the expression away for later, “Your line of work. Is this what the cadet named Gary Mitchell was hinting to the night he made-... on the night of the Valentine’s Day dance.”

Jim raises her brows, “So you /did/ hear us? You heard a lot of us.”

“I did not mean to…” Spock reprimands himself, he does not want to lie to her - not to her, not ever to her, even if it would be a simple bending of the truth, “I /did/ mean to overhear… for your safety. You… seemed upset.”

“I /was/ upset.”

“Your line of work-”

“Yeah, that’s what he was talking about,” Jim confirms, “He doesn’t believe me when I say that it’s just a show.”

Spock glances at her, “He is under the assumption that you provide your body as a service not only in the motions you expressed to me, but in form of physical relief as well?”

“That’s right.”

“And you do not?”

“Not…” Jim pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and looks away, “That’s not my profession.”

“Because you are with Starfleet Academy, under training for command, I would assume that professional prostitution would be far from your chosen career. However, there are cases of illegality that may not surprise some of your classmates - such as Gary Mitchell.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Jim agrees, “And I’ve done my share of illegal things. But if I wanted to sell my body like /that/, I would be making the big bucks, not pennies and dimes.”

“Pennies and dimes have not existed on this planet for-”

Jim groans, “Not literally,” she says, sounding irritated though she is smiling at him, “I’m saying I would be making /bank/. My body is worth a lot more than just a couple hundred credits to let some unnamed creep stick his dick in.”

Spock swallows tightly and considers her words, then inclines his head, “When you phrase it in such a distasteful manner, it does make the other cadet’s suspicions of you seem quite foolish.”

“And your own, apparently.”

“I… apologize,” Spock turns in his seat to look at her better, “I did not mean to make assumptions. I merely based them upon my experience with you while… while in the chair.”

“You mean me giving you a lap dance made you think I gave more than that for pocket change?”

“In so many words, yes.”

Jim nods to herself, looking away from him, “Makes sense, I guess. I can’t blame you.”

“Prostitution is not a career to be ashamed of.”

Jim laughs, her gaze dropping to her feet, “It’s funny hearing that from a Vulcan,” she giggles, “No, no, I’m not ashamed of the thought of being a prostitute.”

“Then what is it of the accusation that makes you take offense?”

“It pisses me off because my boyfriend thought that giving me money would make me wanna let him in my pants,” Jim looks at him finally, “That he thought it wasn’t purely based on how I felt about him. And before you ask, no… I really /don’t/ wanna have sex with him. He’s a total fucking jackass and I know I deserve better.”

It was possible that Spock could not have said it any better than she had.

“And it pisses me off that /you/ would think that or come to that conclusion as well because…” he sees her cheeks flush, “I guess because Vulcans are pretty synonymous with monogamy and shit and if you thought I was sleeping around you wouldn’t… like me. And the fact that you saw me dancing was already bad enough.”

“If you thought it was resulting in a negative reaction from myself, then why bring me in? Why guide me to the seat?”

“Why show you a good time?” Jim asks and turns, her leg lifting onto the desk as she stares into his eyes, “Because… you’d already seen. You wouldn’t forget, no one would, no less a Vulcan. Whatever conclusion you came to on your own would either make or break whatever we could’ve had. I… I wanted to feel you. I wanted to show you all of me. And maybe…”

Spock waits.

Jim looks away then, her brows crinkling together, “Maybe my body would be tempting enough for you to still want to… I dunno,” she shrugs, “Try something, or be interested, or at /least/ want a piece of me. It’s not the first time I’ve had to use my body as temptation. What choice did I have? Go big or go home.”

“What you do for your job does not make me de-” Spock manages to stop himself, but then he concludes that she has already been forward with him, he may as well let her know his own feelings on the subject. He stands from his seat, moving closer to her, “It does /not/ make me desire you any less than I had the first day I saw you.”

“Spock-”

“However, I do have more concerns.”

Jim nods and Spock notes that she is unable to look directly into his eyes for an extended period of time, “Shoot.”

“You alluded to the fact that you have considered myself in a romantic setting prior to the… provocative dance.”

“I did.”

“For how long?”

“Like the night I got dumped into your lap pretty much.”

Spock frowns, “You were not seated in my lap until-”

“Not literally,” Jim smiles, “The time at the nightclub. I’m not blind. You’re pretty fucking gorgeous.”

Spock blinks as he tries to understand the phrasing. The word ‘fuck’ or ‘fucking’ is one that always escapes him. He has heard it used in so many different ways that it often confuses him. ‘Fuck off’ being used in a negative way, ‘Let’s fuck’ being used in a positive way, ‘I’m fucking tired’, it can also be used as an exclamation. Then there are the ones he has heard most: ‘What the fuck’, ‘fuck me’, and ‘shut the fuck up’. This one, however, is new.

“Can’t say you’ve been rendered speechless by me for so long before,” Jim teases him.

“I… am failing to understand the implications of ‘pretty fucking gorgeous’.”

Jim starts giggling and Spock watches in stunned fascination as she loses complete control of her own body, tears dripping down her cheeks as she heaves and gasps, at one point laughing silently with her mouth opened while not breathing out. Her face turns red, Spock begins to consider reaching out to staff or contacting medical as she grabs his arms.

“Oh… oh… oh god,” she gasps, still laughing.

The entire experience takes her 5.8 minutes, and finally she begins to recover.

Spock does not know what to say, he is deeply concerned.

“Oh god, I… I needed that after this week,” she says finally, clearing her throat and leaning back on the desk once more.

Spock struggles for commentary, and concludes with something simple, “Would you like a glass of water?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Jim giggles again and for a moment Spock feels a fear in his gut that she may start laughing once more, “I’m good.”

“I am… concerned. Are you well?”

Jim finally wipes her cheeks and looks at him, her face still red, “I’m more than well, Spock,” she tilts her head at him, “I suppose losing yourself in the giggles isn't something Vulcans experience often.”

“Never.”

“Well, I’m glad to say I was your first,” Jim says, her tone still teasing, “It’s a phenomena not uncommon to Terran. If you wanna get all scientific…”

“I would prefer.”

Jim nods, “Well, for me personally it happens at least a couple times a week.”

“A… a week?” Spock asks in surprise, “You experience the inability to stop yourself from laughing at least twice within a seven day time span?”

“It happens,” she shrugs.

“You are not concerned?”

Jim’s face crinkles in a way that conveys an unusual disgust, or confusion, Spock is unsure, “No, nah. It’s just laughing. Anyways, you were asking?”

“Anyway.”

“Huh?”

Spock stares at her.

“‘Pretty fucking gorgeous’.”

Spock inclines his head, “Yes, please… explain.”

“In this context it would be something like…” Jim considers it, “Extremely gorgeous, while using ‘fucking’ in a way that conveys the concept of your attraction to be overwhelming. Like… panty-wetting overwhelming.”

“Panty…” Spock blinks, “I… I apologize, you have lost me again.”

Jim smiles widely, glancing down and then looking up at him through her lashes, “I’ll give you a minute.”

Spock stares at her, his heart racing, and then he notes the motion of her hand in her lap, sliding up her thigh. He startles when he realizes what she means, “You… are implying that my own physical appearance - strictly aesthetics - resulted in the secretion of vaginal discharge due to arousal the night you met me. Discharge significant enough to dampen your undergarments.”

“God, when you say it like that,” Jim pants, sounding as though she has just run a mile and she reaches up to tug her collar away from her neck, fanning herself.

“Is my conclusion correct?”

“Mm, got it in one.”

“In one what?”

“Guess,” Jim supplies, “Got it in one guess.”

“I have one more question that is forefront at this moment.”

Jim holds out her hand in offering, “Alright.”

“I am assuming you are still engaged in a romantic relationship with the cadet named Gary Mitchell.”

“I am.”

“And you were when… when you… when-”

“When I danced for you?”

Spock nods.

“That’s right.”

“Such an act seemed to convey to me that you were propositioning myself to engage in sexual congress with you.”

“Your question?”

“Would you consider myself more beneficial to you as a romantic partner? Though I am unfamiliar with such a coupling, I am confident that I can be both challenging and stimulating should you examine our prior encounters. I do believe they would be sufficient in altering your decision to remain enamored by another.”

Jim’s mouth drops open for a moment, and then she straightens her shirt, “Why Spock, are you proposing that my genotype should subsume a percentage of Vulcan DNA?”

Spock blinks, confused once more, “I do not understand. You have no Vulcan in you. Furthermore, I do not believe it possible to alter such a fact without the proper-”

“Hm, you’re absolutely right. I /don’t/ have any Vulcan in me…” Jim lifts a brow, eyelids lowering, “Any chance I can convince you to assist me in changing that?”

“I… and how would you suggest we attempt such a tremendous task?”

“Well, you can start by kissing me.”

Spock is sure now that Jim is suggesting the Terran act, not the Vulcan way of doing such a thing, “Jim, I do not understand how pressing our lips together would begin to alter your genetic makeup.”

“Can’t hurt to try.”

Spock’s gaze darkens then, suddenly realizing what Jim has been implying all along, “You are not being literal. You are suggesting-”

“Shut your cute mouth and kiss me already.”

Instead of attempting to get more of a response from Jim, he leans down and presses their lips together. At once, her body rises to meet him, to open her mouth and then her eyes and she looks up into his own.

Her gaze is soft, her hands reaching up to cup his cheeks, to brush the corner next to his left eye as he feels her mouth form into a smile against his own. Spock is unsure if this is to be expected, but she pulls him closer as they close their eyes together, causing him to falter in his footing.

He catches himself, hands on either sides of her as his waist spreads her legs, his feet planting themselves back firmly on the ground. It is not unlike the position they had been in when she was dancing for him, but now she is sitting on the desk and he is standing.

Spock is caught unaware when he feels something wet brush along his bottom lip. He opens his mouth to ask, unsure, when the appendage presses in and he feels suddenly weak at the knees.

Though hesitant, he responds in kind and Jim gasps, pulling back from him, her hands dropping to his chest as she breathes, her cheeks flushed.

“Spicy,” she observes, shifting slightly against him, “And your tongue…”

“I apologize if it was unsettling.”

“Uhm, not unsettling,” she considers, sounding unsure, “I just have a plethora of questions.”

“It is not terribly unlike the felines of Earth,” Spock tells her, “Though the papillae on the tongue of a Vulcan are less severe. They are a genetic trait that will eventually diminish given our drastic change in diet. We also have longer tongues. Ours can extend by up to two full inches longer than the average human tongue.”

Jim gives him an unusual expression then, leaning back slightly, “You don’t say.”


	5. NSFW - This is an…interesting place to fall on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonight has gone well, all things considered.
> 
> Spock was initially concerned that his lack of experience in this category would suffer their relationship some unexpected awkwardness, but so far he had no reason to believe his first hypothesis.
> 
> Dinner both began and ended with Jim smiling at him in that way that he was growing fond of; the walk to her home was rich with conversation; and she had invited him in afterwards to watch a holovid she wanted to share with him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter 5 Tags:** Frottage, Vaginal Fingering, Exhibitionism, Crying.

Tonight has gone well, all things considered.

Spock was initially concerned that his lack of experience in this category would suffer their relationship some unexpected awkwardness, but so far he had no reason to believe his first hypothesis.

Dinner both began and ended with Jim smiling at him in that way that he was growing fond of; the walk to her home was rich with conversation; and she had invited him in afterwards to watch a holovid she wanted to share with him - something called ‘The Princess Bride’.

When the recording finished and the credits began to roll, Jim ended it and turned to look at him, her gaze intent. And that was when she initiated what Spock was sure she intended to end in coitus.

Spock does not intend to end the night the same as she does, not only is he not ready, but he is unsure if he will be able to perform for her without needing to experience his first pon farr - which he has not, and is also unsure whether he will. He still has many questions about his own biology that have been illogical to focus on during his education.

Nevertheless, he delights in feeling her plush lips upon his, her mouth willing his own open as it had the first time they had kissed.

She moves before he can stop her, climbing into his lap and straddling him.

Her dull nails grab at his cheeks, threatening to cut the skin, her intoxicating breath in his face, her pheromones filling his lungs as she rocks against him.

He surrenders to her for the moment, allows her to take anything that she needs, kissing back and pressing his tongue into her mouth, effortlessly tracing the roof of it. Jim moans and trembles against him, her hands dropping to grab his and guide them to embrace her hips.

But Spock stills, turns his face away and lifts her to set her back down on the couch.

“Wha-what?” Jim huffs, her face red as she reaches back for him, “Oh come on, it was just getting good.”

“My sincerest apologies, Jim. It seems I must be getting back to my own dorm room,” Spock stands from the couch, bowing slightly to her and turning to leave.

Jim bolts past him, stopping him mid-stride, “Wait, wait, I don’t get it,” she places her hand on the center of his chest, looking up at him with big blue eyes, “Is this like… are you not into this?”

Spock blinks down at her in confusion, “Into what?”

“What I’m putting down.”

“Pardon?”

“This,” Jim motions to herself, making a movement with her body, “All of this. Are you not into it?”

Spock tilts his head, struggling to understand.

“You’ve seen… /all/ of me. We’ve made out a few times already, but you never touch me.”

Spock anticipates her saying more, but she doesn’t, and when he doesn’t respond she lifts her brows expectantly, “I… my apologies, Jim. I-”

“Do you wanna touch me or not?”

“It is not a question of desire, now… if you will excuse me for the night, I believe I require some additional meditation.”

Jim nods a couple times, lifting her hands, “Alright, alright. I’ll leave it at that. But we’re talking about this tomorrow, Mr. Spock, whether you like it or not.”

Spock starts to step forward, somewhat flustered, when he trips over his own footing and falls forward into Jim. They both collapse together, Spock only having time to plant his hands and catch the brunt of his weight, the rest of him cushioned by-

“Owww,” Jim groans in pain, going silent as Spock lifts his face from where it’s been planted firmly between her breasts and their eyes meet, “Interesting place to fall, but definitely an improvement.”

Spock pulls back, their legs in a tangled mess as he apologizes profusely, glancing at his feet to ascertain why it was that he tripped in the first place. In his endeavour to regain his composure, he places his hand back down and his fingers brush the backs of Jim’s.

All at once, he feels the flood of arousal and desire, excitement pouring from her.

He swallows, looking at her again, seeing the blue of her eyes reduced, pupils dilated as she blushes, “Jim…”

With the left jut of his hip pressed to the heat between her legs, his gaze drops down to her lips, then to her cleavage.

“Spock,” she says, and he can feel her emotions light up as her lips form his name.

He laces their fingers together, swallowing tightly and closing his eyes as he leans down to kiss her once more.

She moans in surprise, legs spread, dress pushed up as she tangles her free hand in his hair like she had when they danced together.

Spock feels her thumb run up his, along the skin between his own and his forefinger and a sound escapes him unlike anything he’s made before but it is unmistakable nevertheless - a growl. He grabs the back of her neck, his own fingers brushing the hairs at the nape of it, tangling with them as he pushes her back and climbs over her to press their chests together.

“Spock,” she gasps, back arching from the carpeted floor, her dress riding up higher to expose Starfleet regulation undershorts.

He does not realize at first, but then feels the tug of fabric before his own are equally exposed. Her hand had moved from his hair to help him from his pants.

Spock stops her, breaking the kiss and meeting her gaze.

“Oh come on, you can’t just work a girl up like that,” she breathes, voice heavy with arousal, “I won’t take them off, can’t we just… can’t we just rut a little?”

Jim tries to guide him down, at first he is resistant, but then allows it when she tries to rise to meet him.

“Please,” she whimpers, and the sound makes him ache.

Spock lifts a brow, their other hands still moving and rubbing together as he fists her hair and pulls her head back. Her mouth opens, groaning loudly as he cants his hips at an angle. He allows a few inches of his penis to unsheath, knees lifting under her thighs to level her womanhood with the form of his growing erection.

Jim gasps. Spock assumes she is displeased, but then she thrusts her hips up firm enough against him that the shape of his penis presses between her folds even through the fabric.

“Ohhhh fuck that’s nice,” she hisses, hooking her leg around his, “So much for being shy.”

“My… apologies-”

“You’ve said that like ten times tonight-”

“I have said it four times.”

Jim whimpers when the ridges of Spock’s penis rub against what he can only assume is her clitoris, “Stop…! Apologizing!” she moans out, “Just… god, I don’t… just don’t stop doing what you’re doing, please.”

“I have never engaged in frottage before, I ap-”

“You apologize and I’m gonna hit you, I swear.”

“Forgive me,” Spock breathes, meeting her gaze, his cheeks flushed green, “I simply ask that you forgive any occasion where I come up short. However, I will endeavor to please you in this way.”

“Yeah, you’re doin’ good, Spock,” Jim smiles in a sly, lazy way that Spock considers, moving once more and the hand she has on his hip moves down.

Spock’s brows raise when she grabs his right gluteus, her grip firm as they look into one another’s eyes. He has never had another person touch him in such a way, but he is also aware of the Terran fascination. What he is surprised by is his own pleasure immediately gained by her doing such a thing.

He kisses her again, dropping his lips down to her sweated chest, tasting her skin as she lifts the hands they still have laced together to take his fingers into her mouth.

Spock shudders, glancing up at her as she watches him.

“Jim-” he lifts himself, pulling his hand from her mouth and pressing it down between their bodies, under the hem of her black undershorts, following the heat through the curls of her pubic hair, slick with discharge.

“Oh!” Jim bucks, eyes wide, trying to kiss him but Spock pulls his head back, lifting his brow as he looks down at her, “Spock.”

Her arousal strengthens, thighs gripping his hips and when she tries to move, his other hand grabs her and holds her still.

“Oh fuck, you’re such a tease.”

Spock watches her, “I admit to finding pleasure in being able to halt your desperate attempts at relief,” he tells her, “You want to experience orgasm, it is only natural to, but I require the deed being brought on by my own actions.”

Jim’s breath is labored as she drops her hands, surrendering to him and smiling, “Alright,” she agrees, wetting her lips, “I’m all yours.”

Spock leans in low once more, dropping his lips to her collarbone and kissing along it as he runs his thumb and forefinger over the sensitive flesh.

“Are you open to suggestion?”

“I believe I have admitted my own inexperience,” Spock tells her, “This appears to be an area where you have more expertise. I am open to suggestion, Jim.”

“Oh yeah, I’m /quite/ experienced.”

Spock lifts a brow, “You are?” he asks in surprise, then considers it, “Please, I would ask that you impart some wisdom.”

Jim shifts slightly, “Can I?”

Spock stills and pulls his hand away, “Of course.”

“I just… I’m gonna show you how I do it,” Jim explains, dropping her hands and pushing down her undershorts enough to show him. He sees her cheeks flush more than they had before, but watches in fascination as she touches her genitals, rubbing and alternating in what Spock observes to be three formations that he is sure he could mimic accurately.

Spock watches for another 2.75 seconds before shoving Jim’s hand away and taking over with more confidence and insistence.

Jim does not protest, simply spreads her legs apart and lets him work her into a state of desperation. Less than a minute in she’s trying to shift and almost pull away from him, only to moan his name and say ‘yes’.

“This is satisfactory?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jim growls out, staring up at him through unshed tears, her hand wrapping around his wrist, “Don’t you dare stop, or I swear… I s-sw-swear.”

Spock tilts her chin with his other hand when her eyelids close, “Look at me, Jim. I wish to see you.”

She looks at him, “I… I’m close,” she shakes, taking her lip between her teeth, “Don’t stop, even when it happens. Just keep going, okay?”

“I will endeavour to do what you ask of me, Jim. I will not stop.”

“Even after.”

“Even after you have reached orgasm, I will persist.”

“G-... good,” Jim reaches her hand up, touching his cheek as she tugs him down. She does not kiss him, staring and whimpering when her orgasm seizes her body.

Spock watches with wide eyes, taking in all of her reaction, how tears drip down her cheeks, how her legs shake, how she finally must close her eyes because she cannot keep them open any longer.

Despite feeling his own body reacting in a way he has also never experienced before, his penis pulsating with release of seed, he continues to work the three formations over Jim’s clitoris until she starts to move back.

“Oh, fuck,” she drops her head back, reaching down to pull up her shorts and stare at him, “That was… that was amazing.”

“You have shed tears,” Spock observes, struggling to maintain his own control.

“So did you,” Jim touches his cheek and then, only then, does he realize that she speaks the truth.

His own first orgasm has also caused him to cry and he sees the wetness on Jim’s fingers when she brings her hand back to show him.

Fascinating.

He does not understand what it means, but it is quite fascinating.


End file.
